cookies: gift of the gods
by wililamherondale
Summary: enjolras comes home to a most peculiar sight - grantaire baking cookies.


Normally, Enjolras returned home at ten past six, having driven home along busy main roads for over an hour, usually shattered beyond belief by the time he reached his front door, key in hand. When he entered, Grantaire would be painting in the living room or taking a nap in the bedroom, and they'd eat takeaways together around half past seven, when one of them could be bothered to go all the way down to the shop to get it (despite the complaints, it was usually Grantaire).

However, on this particular Thursday, a strange scent filled Enjolras' nostrils as he entered the flat on his way home from work; whilst it was sweet and light and syrupy, it had a strange undertone that smelt like- cinnamon? Grantaire was not in the living room today, but the bedroom door was also open, so he couldn't be in there either.

"Gra-" He started to call out to his roommate, but stopped when he noticed that the air looked a little murky. In fact, if he looked closely, he could just see tiny particles of white floating around his apartment. What on Earth was going on?

As he followed the trail of strange white air, he recognised the scent that hung around him, but couldn't quite identify it - it was on the tip of his tongue. However, when he found the source of the mess, the answer came to him instantly.

"Grantaire, are you _baking_?"

Enjolras stood in the doorway of their cramped kitchen, open-mouthed and disbelieving. Spinning on the heel of his foot, Grantaire bit his lip at the sight of his boyfriend.

"Er, hey." Quickly, he tried to fabricate a story, but knew he wouldn't be quite quick enough to escape the blonde's questions. "Weren't you- um, supposed to be at work a little longer?"

Slowly, Enjolras shook his head, but a small grin sneaked its way onto his features before he could stop it.

"What are you making?"

Blinking in surprise, Grantaire showed him the contents of the mixing bowl he was holding. However, this didn't appear to clarify anything, as Enjolras merely looked at the dish with a hint of horror in his expression.

"Er, right." He took a deep breath and tried to blow the flour particles away from his face, with little success, "Do you, er, want any help?"

The way he said it - with his chin carefully ducked closer to his body, his eyes carefully averted from Grantaire's and the smudge of excitement in his tone - made his boyfriend smile. At a later date, he would deny it, but Grantaire knew that the blonde really liked the idea.

It certainly beat their usual night; sitting in front of a crappy quiz show and bickering over whose turn is was to wash up the knives and forks. Often, Enjolras would enquire about one of Grantaire's paintings or his column and it would end in an argument that left them both fuming. Eventually, maybe around eleven, one of them would give in and apologise to the other, usually Grantaire to Enjolras, and they would have a heated make out session to make up for it.

Occasionally, Courfeyrac and Jehan would come over and blackmail the couple into giving them half their takeaways, and they were just such an adorable pair that the couple could never resist. It was a bad habit, but they didn't mind in the slightest.

"Sure, grab the sugar." Grantaire picked up the wooden spoon again, prodding the mixture uncertainly, "Hey, you don't happen to know how to make edible food, do you?"

"Alas, I do not." Enjolras shrugged off his jacket and scarf, shuffling towards the table with caution. "Should- dare I say it- should we start again?"

Mouthing a few words in what Enjolras presumed was a final farewell to the mournful mixture, Grantaire eventually sighed and threw the bowl - none too carefully - into the sink, barely flinching as it clattered against the stainless steel.

"Right then." He dusted his hands off, only resulting in covering himself in even more flour, "How do we start?"

"Er," Enjolras looked around at the various cookbooks open on the table and the laptop screen, but could only pick out every other word because of the amount of mixture splattered everywhere. Finally, he picked out a newer looking cookbook and swept his hand over it, wincing as the butter stuck to the page. "How about we start with this one then?"

Peering down the list of ingredients, Grantaire started shuffling things further from him and some towards, trying to roughly separate the selection into "needed" and "not needed" piles.

Slowly, he managed to cream the butter and sugar (with Enjolras' help, which he would deny later). But then, as Enjolras turned around to put the oven on, he started to rummage around for the cinnamon.

In the process, he managed to knock over the almost full bag of flour.

The _entire_ bag. _All over_ the kitchen floor.

"Bollucks."

For a few seconds, the couple just stared at the mess, a small part of them thinking that if they stared at the mess long enough, it would clear itself up. Unfortunately, it did not.

For some reason, Grantaire couldn't contain himself any longer; he burst into laughter, much to his partner's surprise.

As the blonde finally grinned, Grantaire still chuckling, he slid his arms around the brunette's waist, relaxing instantly. Warm arms circled him back, and Enjolras breathed in the scent of flour and cinnamon.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Grantaire murmured into Enjolras' neck, letting his warm mouth brush against the delicate skin. Responding with only a faint moan, Enjolras slipped his hands under the edges of Grantaire's shirt, hearing the intake of breath before he even registered what he was doing.

The cookie mix left forgotten on the table, flour still coating every surface in the room somehow, having also worked its way into Grantaire's hair. He looked adorable with his messy hair and his sleeves rolled up, Enjolras decided.

Reluctantly, the blonde removed a hand from the brunette's hip, and with his thumb, carefully brushed away the streak of flour that had settled on Grantaire's cheek, leaving his hand to rest there as he counted every daring freckle on his boyfriend's nose. The fact that he hated them only made Enjolras love them more.

This intimate gesture caused Grantaire to grin almost uncontrollably, unable to contain his ecstasy. However, he managed to regain his sanity long enough to hook his finger's through Enjolras' belt loops, leaning up to suggestively whisper in his ear:

"Shall we?"


End file.
